Peter and Matt's Magical Weekend Adventure
by Random Flyer
Summary: Peter was in over his head and he was panicking. What he really needed was an adult. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the closest thing they had to an adult at the moment. Rating may change. Pre-Homecoming. Kid!fic. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Marvel or any of their characters.**

**A/N: I love kid fics, but usually the kid, whomever they may be, is left in the hands of at least moderately responsible adults. I want something that at least starts with no responsible adult supervision at all. Since I couldn't find it, I decided to write it. Hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter 1**

Peter shifted from one foot to another as the phone rang. "C'mon, pick up…pick up…pick uuuuup," he muttered, willing someone to answer, anyone. The call went to voicemail. He glanced at his companion sitting motionless on a crate in the alleyway. Peter turned and shifted a few steps away, closer to the edge of the circle of yellow security light surrounding them. "Hi, Mr. Stark," Peter said, grimacing. "It's me…Peter Parker. I uh…really need some help, like desperately need help or even just some advice. This isn't like the time I called about my science fair project this is an actual legit emergency. So if you're there, if you get this, please call back as soon as you can…thanks…"

"No one picked up," the other boy observed. He scratched at the dirty shirt he wore, wrinkled his nose and moved like he was trying to limit as much contact as possible with the clothes on his back while still wearing them. Considering they fished those clothes out of a dumpster, Peter couldn't blame him.

Peter winced, desperately trying to think of plan C. Happy was plan A and that went about as well as it normally did, which was to say Peter left a message with Happy's voice mail, too. "Yeah, not yet."

Peter glanced at the rusty door next to the wooden crate. It looked like it hadn't been used in years so hopefully no one would come through it and find them, but there was still a working light above it which at least let him keep a better eye on the kid. Then, Peter looked up at the ancient security camera mounted to keep an eye on the door. It was still broken, the front half of its lens clung to the main body by a piece of twisted metal and the casing around the rest had several large dents. Finally, he eyed the heap of cables and clamps laying in a crumpled heap just beyond the circle of light on the other side of the alleyway.

The boy cocked his head, eyes still staring, unfocused at the middle ground in front of him. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm…going to…I don't know," Peter moaned. He sat down on the crate next to the other boy, pushing Daredevil's red and black suit back against the brick wall behind them. "I have no idea what we're going to do."

The other boy snorted. "You might not know what you're going to do, but I'm going to head back to the orphanage. It might not be the best place to live, but it's better than the streets." The boy stood up, hands going out, one to the wood crate the other out in front of him to feel his way. He took a few shuffling steps toward the street. The motion brought him closer to the heap of cables and they glowed a faint blue.

"No! Nono!" Peter yelped and jumped up, simultaneously trying to place himself between the boy and the street and the heap of cables. Choosing between the two wasn't necessary because a moment later the kid grimaced and shuffled away from the cables himself. The cables went dark again and Peter shifted so he mainly blocked the alley entrance. "You can't go anywhere right now! This situation…_your_ situation is a lot more complicated than you realize."

"Then explain it to me," the boy growled, a smaller, less experienced version of the death glare his adult-self used on criminals. "You said you would after you made a phone call and you've made two." He picked at the shirt he wore, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Peter groaned again, bringing his hands to his masked face. He really needed an adult but all the adults he knew that were qualified for this weren't answering their damn phones or were…not adults anymore. "Ok…ok…just sit down. I'll try and explain."

The boy glared at Peter a moment before shuffling back and sitting back down on the crate. He gripped the edge of the crate, knuckles turning white.

"Ok," Peter said, trying to figure out how he was going to explain Daredevil to Daredevil. "So…You're an adult."

The boy's eyebrows rose in the most patent look of disbelief Peter had ever seen.

"Just hear me out," Peter said, hands up and stepping closer, "You're actually supposed to be an adult. You're a vigilante named Daredevil and sometimes we team up so you can teach me awesome vigilante stuff. We were investigating a bunch of disappearances and ended up fighting this mad-scientist-inventor guy in a warehouse and he hit you with this weird cable-thing-"

"That's the thing on the ground over there?" the kid asked, pointing toward the heap of cables.

"Yeah," Peter said, eyeing the object a moment before putting himself between it and Daredevil again. "It wrapped around you like a restraint or something and I thought that's all it was and that you'd get out of it because you're squirrely like that so I kept fighting. But then you screamed and there was all this light and you went unconscious and the next thing I know you were shrinking or something. So I just grabbed you and ran out of there."

The panic Peter had felt when he'd realized how bad the situation had gotten was not going to leave him any time soon. In fact, Peter was pretty sure he was going to have nightmares about the following moments when they'd landed in this alleyway and he'd desperately ripped the cable restraints off of Daredevil and flung them into the heap where they now sat. Then, there was a sort of confused-panic when Peter, after a serious internally debate about secret identities and medical emergencies, had pulled off Daredevil's loose-fitting mask only to find the vigilante was now twelve or thirteen years old. Then, there was the follow-up panic when Daredevil woke up, didn't remember anything, tried to attack Peter, and turned out to be blind. Now Peter had this slow-burn background panic on what he should next. On the whole, there had been a lot of panic in the last hour or two.

"You can't turn an adult into a kid. It's not possible," miniature Daredevil said, face straight, tone flat.

"It's true, I swear," Peter said, glancing back to the street. Another car passed by, the traffic seemed to be picking up and the sky was definitely a lighter shade than half an hour ago. It must be almost dawn. Aunt May was going to be worried. At least it was Friday night…or was that Saturday morning? It was the weekend, that was all that mattered. "Weirder things have happened in the last five years…none of which you would remember if you've lost your memory…" Peter dropped his head into his hands desperate to convince Daredevil and unsure how he could manage it. "How else are you going to explain waking up in oversized body armor? Or that restraint thing that glows every time you get near it?"

The boy pursed his lips, head cocked as if listening to something. He huffed after a moment. "Still not proof," he mumbled, then spoke louder, "Besides, how am I supposed to know it glows?" He waved a hand in front of his eyes.

"Well you sure know it's doing something," Peter countered. Maybe he was getting through to the kid.

Daredevil shifted in his seat, head tilting down and away in a familiar motion.

Peter guessed that was as much of an admission to his point as he was going to get. At the moment he'd take it, because he had more pressing issues at hand, too many pressing issues at hand. "The thing I don't get is how you're blind."

Daredevil's expression twisted in confusion. "You're claiming that we fought a mad-scientist who turned adult-me into kid-me with some weird…thing and you're wondering how I'm blind? Hate to break this to you, but blind people exist." Apparently, Daredevil was just as sassy when he was a kid as when he became an adult.

Peter shrugged and sat back down next to miniature Daredevil on the crate. "Well, I mean, adult-you does all these amazing parkour tricks and fighting moves, but kid-you is blind so unless you got your eyesight back sometime when you grew up or something I don't see how it's possible. Though you did a pretty good job with those punches when you woke up…a _really_ good job…" Peter frowned as he thought over the few well-placed punches before he managed to web the kid's arms and legs together and talk the kid down. Actually, the thing Peter really should be worried about was where they were going to go. Dawn was getting closer with each passing moment. He was stuck on the blind thing, though.

Daredevil shifted where he sat again, face twisting into a scowl.

"What?" Peter asked, then it clicked. He was an idiot. Weirder things had happened like he _just_ _said_. Peter could climb up walls with his bare hands and feet, who was to say Daredevil didn't have powers to compensate for the blind thing. It would explain so much. "Oh my gosh, you're blind. Adult you is blind. You didn't get your sight back at some point growing up. Wait… can you do all that stuff now? I mean as a kid?" Peter stared as the miniature version of Daredevil squirmed then scowled, hunching his shoulders in on himself.

"None of your business," the kid muttered.

"Oh my gosh, you can!" Peter jumped up. "Wait! This can help us!"

The scowl shifted from annoyed to more curious. "How?"

"Adult you is an expert tracker. He knows things, where people are, where they go, where they were. If you can do that then you can figure out where adult you lives and then at least we'll have a place for you to stay until we figure out how to undo this! How's your nose? Do you think you can track your route tonight by smell?" This had to work, Peter really didn't want to have to bring the kid home and come up with a story to tell Aunt May. That would open a can of worms _no one_ was prepared to handle.

Daredevil's miniature scowl came back full force. "I'm not a bloodhound," he growled.

"Yeah but do you have the nose of a bloodhound?" Peter grabbed the suit and thrust it in front of Daredevil. "If you used this as a baseline, could you track adult-you's scent to your apartment?"

Daredevil recoiled, face twisting. "I guess?"

When the kid still hesitated, Peter tried another track. "Look, Double D…actually, what's your name?" He felt bad for finding out Daredevil's identity this way but he couldn't keep calling this kid Daredevil, especially if this went on for much longer. Besides, they were hopefully going to find Daredevil's home anyway.

The kid paused another moment before saying, "Matt."

"Ok, Matt...I'm Peter," Peter said, it was only fair. Peter got Matt's first name, Matt got Peter's first name, equivalent exchange. "You can't stay here. It's going to be dawn soon and people will notice a blind kid sitting on a wooden crate in a back alley. You can't go back to the orphanage because whether you believe me or not, you're an adult and you don't live there anymore." Actually, when Peter got a moment to process all of this he was probably going to reflect on how sucky Daredevil's life must have been being a blind orphan. No wonder the guy had anger issues. "If I have to bring you home with me I will, but if my aunt finds you she's going to ask all these awkward questions that I don't have answers for and will probably end with a call to social services. I'm sure you want to get out of those clothes I fished for you out of the dumpster, so our best bet for all of that is finding adult-you's home."

Matt pursed his lips, sightless eyes staring straight ahead. He huffed out a sigh, "Fine. We should probably start where you first met up with adult-me tonight and I can try and back track the scent."

Peter nodded, then realized the kid might not be able to tell that. "I nodded," he said. Then he immediately realized if kid-Matt had the same abilities as adult-Daredevil-Matt then he probably could tell Peter nodded but it really didn't matter because Matt's straight-lined mouth twitched up into the first grin of the night so maybe it was a good thing even if it wasn't necessary. "Oh, we need to bring your suit with us…uh, here's a bag." Peter scooped up an old plastic shopping bag from behind the crate and stuffed the suit into it.

Matt wrinkled his nose as Peter handed the bag to him.

"We can wash it when we get back to your place," Peter said, not even entertaining the thought that this might not work. He paused, looking back to the cable-restraint thing. "We should probably take that thing with us, too."

Scowling, Matt shifted away from the device. "I don't want it near me. I don't like it."

"We can't leave it here, what if it hurts someone else?" Peter stared at it, not particularly wanting to go near it either. It hadn't done anything to him when he'd pulled it off Daredevil, but then again, he hadn't been paying too much attention at the time. He'd been more focused on the fact that his fellow vigilante was _shrinking_. "Or what if we need it to make you normal again?"

Matt brought up both hands and shuffled away from the thing. "Bring it if you want, but I'm not touching it or going near it or anything like that."

Humming to himself, Peter turned back to the dumpster where he found the clothes Matt currently wore. It was difficult to see in the poor light and the smell was awful. After a few minutes of rifling through trash he pulled out several plastic and a ripped canvas bag with a long handle. It took a moment to get the guts to touch the cables again, but they didn't hurt when he did. As far as Peter could tell, they didn't do anything. He wrapped them in layers of plastic bags then jury rigged it with the ripped canvas bag so he could sling it around his shoulders to rest in front of him.

Peter turned back to Matt, hoping that having himself between Matt and the thing would be enough protection for now. "Here, get on my back and hold on tight. Time to track down adult-you."

**TBC…**

**A/N: I made a promise to myself after the last long multi-chapter story that I would finish my multi-chapter stories 90% or 100% before posting them, but this is where I break that promise. I have five chapters of this story written with ideas for more, but I'd like to see if I get any suggestions or ideas from people reading this story so please leave a review and let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to the everyone who's responded to this story, especially Fanatic2018 for the review!**

**I'm going to try to update once a week until I run out of pre-written chapters. When I actually get chapters up will depend on my constantly changing schedule and how much of an adult I have to be during the day.**

**This all belongs to Marvel, not me.**

**Chapter 2**

Stephen Strange, as a rule, hated most people. Sorcerers and wizards alike were no exception to that rule, especially at times like this. This particular sorcerer, a man named Darrell Machin, earned Stephen's ire by being a power hungry megalomaniac who had an annoying talent for combining magic and technology. Stephen had never seen or heard of such a successful hybridization of technology and magic outside of alien groups like the Asgardians. The sheer ingenuity and diversity in the inventions' function made fighting this particular opponent frustrating.

Stephen ducked down as another one of the devices shot past him and wrapped around a support pillar in the warehouse. Machin cursed and jumped to reset another machine. Stephen used the lull in attacks and opened another portal. It failed to drop him in the exact location he wanted, just like all other previous portals. He thought one of the devices running somehow shifted any magical portals away from that specific local so no one could surprise the inventor.

Muttering his own curse, Stephen ducked, half pulled by the Cloak, behind cover to avoid another spinning cable device. Stephen was not only on his own in the fight, but had to be mindful of collateral damage to the surrounding area. Something in Machin's arsenal of inventions blocked Stephen from creating a mirror verse so Wong was outside the warehouse, ensuring no one came or left during the fight. Almost all standard forms of magic, especially for combat, seemed to malfunction when used in the warehouse. He might need to go back to the basics and good old-fashion violence. Stephen ducked through another portal, also not to the intended destination only to have to once again dodge seconds later.

This was a pattern. Each time Stephen used a portal Machin knew where he was going to land and used that to target Stephen. His opponent must know where he would appear, either by determining the destination beforehand or a signaling device afterward. He could use that pattern to his advantage.

Ducking out of sight again, Stephen picked up a wrench laying on the ground with other scattered tools and spare parts. He conjured another portal and sent a replica of himself through. The replica started fizzling before more than a few steps and in a couple minutes it would dissolve entirely, but it was enough for quick distraction. Machin turned in anticipation for his target's arrival, but Stephen used that moment to strike. The Cloak carried him forward and into close range with the Machin. Once near, it was almost comically easy to knock Machin with the wrench. Actually, it was almost embarrassing.

"Good thing Wong didn't see that, I'd never live it down," Stephen muttered, shaking out his aching hands and looking around the mess of a workshop. "It's over Wong!" he called, prompting his friend to drop the protective barrier around the warehouse. Wong, poked his head through the door and whistled at the scattered debris surrounding Stephen.

"Well, this place is a mess," Wong said, stepping further into the room.

"His fault for throwing things around," Stephen said, nodding at the unconscious inventor on the ground as Stephen put the final touches on restraining the man. When the magical restraints warped, he sighed and grabbed a length of electrical wiring instead. They needed to get these machines turned off.

"We're going to have to pick all of this stuff up, aren't we?" Wong sighed.

Stephen straightened and looked around at the scattered inventions and devices, some of them sitting on shelves, others laying on the floor and wrapped around pillars where they'd missed their target, and still others smashed into pieces from the fight. "I'm afraid so. They're all magical devices that can't fall into the wrong hands. Half of them I'm not even sure what they do."

Actually, it was intriguing what the man had been able to invent. The portal redirection device might be useful to defend the sanctum from unwanted magical travel. The other, more harmful devices needed to be examined and quarantined, if not destroyed entirely.

Stephen moved around the room, heading to the workbench by the wall. Notebooks, schematics, papers, tools, and parts sat in piles over every flat surface and a shelf next to the bench. Stephen opened a few of the notebooks and found sketches of ideas, notes on magic, scientific formulas, and ways to combine them. Machin was imaginative if nothing else. Too bad the man decided the best use of his talents was gathering more power for himself.

Wong stepped up beside Stephen, picking up another notebook. "This one looks like an inventory of the things he built, might help us to make sure we got it all."

"Better these things don't get out into the streets," Stephen agreed. "We might need to bring in some help if possible."

Wong nodded. "I'll go check if they'll be able to spare anyone from Kamar-Taj to help organize and catalogue this stuff."

"Don't use a portal in here, do it outside. He has some kind of device that interferes with landing at the final destination. I don't know what the affects will be on leaving this place," Stephen said in an aside, immersed in reading some of the notes. Really, they were fascinating concepts, the ones that weren't horrifying, that is.

Wong collected Machin and disappeared through the door, probably to deposit the man in a more secure location. Stephen concentrated on combing through the space, first for any remaining booby traps. There were several. Then, he went through to try and separate out the different inventions and turn them off. Finally, he started matching them with the inventory written out in shaky, splotched handwriting. The more he examined the room, though, the more Stephen frowned. The fight with the inventor had been fierce and had gone on longer than Stephen thought it would, but the level of damage in the room did not match their short confrontation.

"Let's get a bird's eye view of the room," Stephen said and jumped, letting the Cloak bring him up near the ceiling. He ran over the fight in his mind, matching up scorch marks and damage to his own actions and Machin's counter attacks. Really, he could only account for less than half the damage in the warehouse. Stephen was just trying to determine how that could be when the door opened again.

"We've got a few trainees to help," Wong announced when he came back through the door.

Three hesitant and awestruck students followed him. They glanced around the warehouse wide eyes finally coming to rest on Stephen. They looked at Stephen with the same level of shock as they looked at some of the inventions. Stephen took a moment to hope their shock was more about being brought to do "field work" so soon in their training than meeting the man who had defeated Dormammu. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with fawning hero worship. The night had been long enough and dawn was rapidly approaching.

Stephen waved Wong over to him. "Are we sure beginning students are the best ones to be doing this?" he asked, silently wondering what the person in charge at Kamar-Taj was thinking.

Wong shrugged. "They're too new to magic and freaked out by what could go wrong to do anything foolish. And they're not going to understand anything they might see in the notebooks. The head trainer is worried about any more students going astray so he's trying to limit the exposure to negative influences the intermediate students have and all the advanced students are busy. We just need to keep an eye on them to make sure they don't kill themselves or do anything permanent." When Stephen just stared a moment, Wong shrugged again. "They said they'll send some more senior, trustworthy people when they can."

Stephen huffed. He thought he was through with institutional incompetence when he'd left traditional western organizational structures. He was just going to have to treat them like resident doctors just barely on the edge of incompetent. He jumped up again floating above the recruits so they could clearly see him and clapping his hands to draw everyone's attention. "Alright, you're here to help clean up the surrounding inventions. Many, if not all, of these items are extremely dangerous. Mishandle them and you could easily get yourself injured or killed, or worse, someone else. Do not touch anything Wong or myself have not authorized you to touch. If anything happens that is unexpected or you see something you think is out of place tell myself or Wong. If you have any questions ask Wong."

Wong rolled his eyes and glared at Stephen. Stephen ignored him. He certainly didn't want to deal with any of the ridiculous questions these new students could ask.

"Now, wait there and don't touch anything until given specific instructions." Stephen let himself down to the ground and turned back to the work bench.

"Thanks for that," Wong grumbled as he stepped next to Strange. "How do you want to start this?"

"We'll first determine what's safe to handle and transport, then bring it back and store it in a secured location at the Sanctum," Stephen said. "I already went through and deactivated the remaining booby traps I could find and turned off any machines still running including the device affecting our portals." He pointed out one bulb-like device sitting off to the side. "That should be safe to transport."

Wong nodded. He opened a portal to the sanctum and stepped through then back. "Just checking," he said with innocent, wide eyes when Stephen leveled a look at him. "I'll have the students move that and the un-assembled parts into the vault. We'll isolate them from the other magical items. You work on getting everything else ready and safe to transport?"

Stephen nodded, attention already focused back on the notebooks and the earlier puzzle of how half the workshop had been destroyed even before he'd arrived.

Cleaning up the mess from the workshop took the rest of the morning. Eventually, a few senior wizards arrived to help and Stephen directed them to the more dangerous devices he still wasn't sure were safe for students to touch. Stephen focused on piecing together the night and determining what had happened at the workshop before he'd arrived.

Stephen had tracked rumors for weeks of a disillusioned scientist turned wizard turned wizard inventor with less than benign intentions. Despite the ongoing rumors, finding the workshop proved impossible since each time Stephen thought he'd discovered it, the place was deserted by the time he'd arrived. Tonight, however, a sudden surge of magic alerted Stephen to the workshop's location and, instead of finding an empty warehouse or basement, he walked right into Machin fitting together an array of some kind. The previous failures proved a disadvantage since Stephen had not expected to actually find the workshop this attempt.

Stepping over to the original device where he'd initially found the inventor, Stephen flipped through notebooks and schematics. It was difficult to say which of the drawings matched the smashed device and Stephen hesitated to put it together until he knew exactly what is was supposed to do. After several minutes, though, he thought he knew which one of the schematics matched the broken machine. It seemed like it was meant to cloak any magical output from any and all magical detection. Stephen bet he would also find something that allowed Machin to detect other magical signatures nearby, giving him an early warning. Clever, really, but very inconvenient.

While that solved why Stephen had difficulty finding this place, it did not explain why this time he succeeded. He frowned, crouching down to sift through the broken pieces. They were dented, broken apart from some blunt force. It could be difficult tracking what happened during a battle, but he was certain this hadn't happened during his own fight. That meant someone had been here before Stephen and Wong appeared. Cataloging everything and making sure it was all accounted for took on new importance.

"Wong," Stephen called out. "We have another problem."

"Then we have more than one," Wong said coming over to Stephen. "One of the trainees found this in all the mess." He held up a billy club colored black and red. "There are no other weapons like it here. It's not magic, and it doesn't match this guy's style."

"Probably not his," Stephen agreed. It would fit his own conclusion. "Someone was here before us. I think the magical cloaking device Machin had was destroyed in the initial altercation and that allowed us to finally find this place."

"So now we have to worry about previous visitors taking anything," Wong sighed. "It's going to be a long day and it's already been a long night."

"We should be able to track any magical signatures that appear now that his cloaking device is destroyed and they're probably out of range. Do you think you could finish cleaning up here?" Stephen asked.

Wong nodded. "You go get started searching for anything more out there connected to this guy we haven't picked up yet. Don't forget to get some rest, too."

Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum. He had to start it twice since the first one fizzled out. He really did need some rest. "I'll take a nap while the tracking spell is running," he agreed. He stepped through to his private quarters. Hopefully, whoever came through the workshop before him didn't get their hands on anything too dangerous. They could do a lot of harm with some of those devices. Stephen frowned as he considered another equally likely possibility. Hopefully, if they were innocent parties in this whole mess, they didn't get the wrong end of any of the magical inventions present. Stephen didn't know if he would be able to fix anything the devices did, yet. Sighing, he set the tracking spell in motion then sat down in a comfortable chair. He'd catch a short nap, while the spell ran then get back to finishing this thing once and for all.

**TBC…**

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think, ideas for what you'd like to see happen, critiques, anything!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the likes, follows and reviews! This comes later than I wanted but spending vacation time in a house with three kids all five years old or younger, while fun, does not lend itself toward working on personal projects.

**Chapter 3**

Matt jumped off Peter's back as soon as they touched down on the next rooftop. Having Peter between Matt and the cable-thing helped, but it was still too close for comfort. Matt couldn't describe what he didn't like about it. It was some kind of uncomfortable crawling sensation in his bones that grew into a deep pain if he got too close or worse, touched it. He figure that out on the last roof when the jury-rigged carrying system broke and Matt grabbed it on reflexed only to gasp in pain and drop it immediately.

"Ok, do your thing," Peter said, waving an inviting arm over the rooftop.

They'd started out on a roof half a mile from here, where Peter said he'd met Matt's older self at the beginning of the night. Initially, Matt had been skeptical if he could actually track himself through the city but Peter was nothing if not an enabler. Matt figured that out pretty quickly.

In reality, backtracking the scent off the body armor along the rooftops was similar to some of the training Stick gave Matt before dumping him back at the orphanage for not being good enough. Of course, those times had always been following an unsuspecting pedestrian at street level using more than just sense, but the general concept was the same. Matt had to go between sniffing around the roof top and the suit to confirm the trail many times. Peter insisted on jumping Matt from one roof to another as Matt sniffed out his own tracks even though Matt said he could make his own way across. They landed on more dead-end roofs than not and the going was slow, but Matt was sure they were close. This rooftop smelled more like adult-Matt than any of the others, which was something he never thought he would need to observe.

Actually, the scent covered the entire roof with no discernable path across it so Matt wondered if this was the end of their trail. He checked around him, feeling the air currents, listening to the echoes and ambient noises bouncing off the surroundings, felt the vibrations through the roof. There was a door to one side, roof access for the building. He stepped over to it. Peter followed close on his heels the same way Peter had done the entire trip. Matt wasn't sure if the older boy was afraid he would fall off the roof, take off running, or something else. Maybe it was a little bit of everything.

The door was unlocked. Matt went through, sniffing the air inside and mapping out the room the same way he had on the roof. It was an open area. The door led to a balcony walkway that continued along the length of the room to a stair leading down. The air currents swept around the room and the echoes told Matt it was a large space. Probably an open-concept apartment.

"You do have the nose of a bloodhound," Peter said as he followed Matt through the door closing it behind them. He pulled off his masked, the cloth brushing against his hair. Peter's breath stopped brushing through his mask and when he spoke his voice rang clearer. "Do you mind if I look around?"

Matt ran his fingers along the wall as he walked. There was another door halfway down the walk. "Go ahead."

"It's just…I don't want to…you know…pry or anything. There's kind of an unwritten rule about vigilantes and secret identities." Peter bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet. His heart pounded with excitement in his chest.

"Well you already know who I am, so…" Matt shrugged. "Besides, we don't know for sure if this is my place. It smells like the suit, but you know that's no guarantee." He still had doubts about the whole adult turned into a child thing, but this meant that at least part of Peter's story was true. Whoever wore that suit Peter had did live here, or spent lots of time here.

"Smelling out your own place like that is both awesome and weird. But yeah, you're right," Peter said, the grin evident in his voice. "I'm going to check the lower level." He set down the bundled up cable restraint in front of the door and vaulted over the railing.

Matt took a few larger steps away from the cable thing, no escape through that door while that thing was blocking the way. Part of him wondered if Peter left it there so Matt wouldn't bolt, but it was more likely Peter just wanted to do his flip without worrying the thing would fall out. He crinkled his nose. "You better not use that rope stuff in here. It smells like chemicals."

"Oh, I won't. It's small enough in here I don't need it," Peter said from the first floor of the apartment, "It would smell like that. Don't worry though, this stuff dissolves after a few hours." A small click and the sound of lights buzzing told Matt that Peter turned on the lights.

"Chemicals probably still hang around," Matt said, but there was no anger behind it. Really he should be grateful to the kid for bringing him…well, to a place Matt could stay for the time being. He hadn't had a home since dad died, so that was the wrong term even if his adult-self lived here. The whole thing still sounded far-fetched. Matt continued down the stairs, maybe they could find something to confirm it really was Matt's place.

Apparently, Peter was already working on it even without Matt's suggestion. "Well adult-you is definitely still blind, all these books are in braille." Peter slid a book back into its place. "Here's some blind-people canes… Found some mail!" Peter called from the side of the room, over where Matt thought a counter separated out a kitchen area. "It's addressed to a Mathew Murdock."

"That's me," Matt said. That was one more point toward Peter's story. He worked his methodical way around the main floor using every trick Stick taught him to determine things about his surroundings. There seemed to be large areas of glass along two of the main walls, a few pieces of furniture including a couch, some chairs, a coffee table, a wardrobe, and a bookcase. The kitchen area stood off to the side where Peter currently rifled through adult-Matt's mail. Next to the kitchen area was another hallway, maybe leading to the main door?

"I think that confirms it, this is adult-you's apartment," Peter said. "Makes sense, really, with the roof access and I bet you get a discount."

Matt frowned. "Why do you say that?"

Peter shifted, looking from Matt to…the window? "Oh, right…well, there's big windows all around the wall there and a giant illuminated billboard outside. It's kinda an eyesore when you look at it, but the colored light filtering into the place when it's dark is kinda cool. Nobody that could see would want that glowing at you all night, though. You don't even have curtains out here."

"Oh," Matt said, opening a door he found along one wall. He sniffed, bleach, soap, shampoo and hygiene products. Those alone said bathroom, he didn't need the harsh tint of sound from the tiles in the small space.

"Do you…ah…do you want me to tell you where everything is?" Peter asked shifting from one foot to another as he watched Matt.

"Actually, that would help a lot," Matt said stepping over to Peter and grabbing the back of Peter's elbow. He learned a lot from Stick and could figure it out on his own, but it still helped having a guide. "Can you just kind of walk me around the rooms and tell me what's in each one? Then you should probably get home. It's getting late, or maybe early? Whichever."

Peter walked them both to the wall and circled around the room. "Not sure how I feel about just leaving you, but we'll do the tour first."

Peter took up the clumsy job of a first-time seeing-eye person. He walked Matt around the living room, describing exactly what Matt already determined, couch, chairs, coffee table, bookshelf, and wardrobe. Then they went around the kitchen area. Peter opened the fridge as they passed it.

"You don't eat much," the older teen said.

Matt shrugged pulling Peter toward the hallway he sensed earlier. "You don't know adult-regular-me, I probably get a lot of take out. What's down here?"

Peter unlocked a door, opened it, and leaned outside. "That's the actual front door," he said coming back in and relocking the bolts again. "It goes out to the building hall. Don't go out there if you don't have to, not until we fix you, ok?"

"I can manage on my own," Matt grumbled, steering Peter back to the main room.

"I'm just looking out for adult-you," Peter said bringing his hands up. "He's probably already going to be pissed that I accidentally had to figure out who he is so the more I can keep him from answering awkward questions when you get back to normal the better." Peter guided them through a sliding door on the far end of the room near the stairs. "This is the bedroom. There's a bed, a closet for clothes and…" Sliding of skin against fabric, "wow, you sleep on silk sheets."

"Silk sheets?" Matt repeated, reaching out a hand to the bed. Sure enough, his hand met the tussled covers of an unmade bed and silk sheets. Matt never had gotten the habit of making his bed, despite the best efforts of the nuns. Still, silk sheets? Stick would have a coronary. Matt couldn't wait to sleep in them.

"Yup," Peter popped the 'P' with a nod, "Who'd have thought the same Daredevil that goes around snapping ball joints sleeps on silk sheets at night." He shook his head and tugged Matt back out to the main room. "I think I'm going to go home, give a line to my aunt and then come back."

Matt shook his head, dropping his grip on Peter's elbow. "You're exhausted, I can tell and neither one of us are going to be much use figuring this out if we don't get some rest." He could hear Peter's pulse and breathing, both showing the same signs of exhaustion Stick taught him to recognize in himself and his opponents. "I'll be fine here, I won't leave the apartment, promise." At least for the moment, Matt meant that. He needed to sort this out a little more before he tried going anywhere.

Peter's frown came through his tone. "What if your friends come by looking for you?"

Matt shrugged, "Never really had friends before, why would I have them now?"

"That's probably the saddest thing I've ever heard," Peter said. "You're the kid Charles Dickens warned me about, a blind orphan with no friends. I don't know if I should cry or give you the biggest hug possible, maybe both."

"Please don't," Matt said, backing up a step. It really wasn't as bad as he made it sound.

"And you're afraid of hugs!" Peter gasped clapping a hand against his chest.

Matt was pretty sure there was at least some sarcasm in there, which took the edge off. He still wanted to punch Peter in the face for it. "Oh shut up," he scowled, "You live with your aunt. You want to start talking about your _tragic circumstances_?" Matt put extra emphasis on the description.

"Not particularly," Peter said, looking back toward the windows.

The tone was flippant, but Matt could hear the hitch in Peter's breathing and heartbeat. Matt could feel heat coming through the windows, small but definitely growing. The sun must be coming up.

"Ok, I'm going to go, get a nap in and then try and figure that cable-restraining thing out. I'll keep trying to call my expert friend, too. He has to pick up some time," Peter said, but his tone conveyed more doubt than reassurance. "I'll be back here tonight, so promise me you're not going to go anywhere. Just stay here and lay low."

Matt waved him off. "Just take the stupid cable thing with you. I don't want it here or anywhere near me." Even having it on that upper floor walkway made Matt uncomfortable.

"Well, I'm leaving the suit with you, try and stash it some place out of sight, the wardrobe maybe." Peter turned and headed back to the stairs. "I mean it! Don't go anywhere! I'll be back tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," Matt said, tracking Peter's movements as the older boy grabbed the bundle from in front of the door.

Peter pulled his mask back on, the fabric sliding against hair and skin. His voice was muffled from the fabric over his mouth and his breath hitting against it. "I'm locking the door on my way out! Get some sleep, maybe that'll fix it." He closed the door behind him, the sharp sound of the door clicking shut sent a momentary burst of sound through the room, highlighting the walls again.

Matt cocked his head as he listened to the other boy cross the roof and then dive off into space, vanishing from Matt's perception except for the telltale thwip, thwip noise. When that faded into the distance, lost in the sea of the city in the morning, Matt turned in the now empty room. He should get some sleep. He might not remember it, but his limbs buzzed and head ached with the telltale signs of being up all night. The smart thing to do was sleep and get a better perspective on this with a fresh mind. That's what the nuns would say to do.

Matt did not go to sleep. He explored the apartment, though perhaps searched was a better term. After all, while Stick taught him the importance of rest and how to recognize his own limits, Stick also taught how to push past them and force his body how to do what needed to be done. Right now Matt needed answers and sleep would not give him those.

The bedroom told Matt nothing more than the adult version of him that supposedly lived here had several suits, one or two silk shirts, and lots of soft casual clothes. Matt pulled out a pair of soft sweats and a tee-shirt. They would be far too big for him but it was better than the dumpster clothes he currently wore. He worked his way through a shower, change, and resumed his search.

The bookshelf contained mostly legal books, all in braille. Matt found a few pieces of technology, a very slim plastic thing he guessed must be a computer. It had a keyboard with braille stickers on the keys when he opened it up. Stored with it was another device that had buttons and a line of bumps like you would find in braille.

Hunger drove Matt to the kitchen. Peter was right there wasn't much there, but Matt found some left over rice, ate it cold, and got back to his search. He found the canes, several of them propped in the corner and made note of their location. By the time he got around to the wardrobe the morning traffic outside was well underway.

Inside there wasn't anything except a heavy footlocker with an open padlock. If Matt knew himself, he guessed this is where the adult-him would keep the suit Peter left with him. Matt went and grabbed the bag with the suit, bringing it back to the foot locker. When he opened the lid the rush of air and scents brought with it removed any doubt that this was his apartment.

Matt knelt where he was a moment, hardly daring to move. That was his dad. That scent that came up with opening the box. It was faint with time, both the scent and Matt's own memory. Stick frowned on Matt's grief for his father and he always knew when Matt handled dad's old things. So Matt hadn't touched any of his dad's things after seriously starting his training with Stick, but Matt would recognize his dad's smell anywhere.

Reaching out a shaking hand, Matt felt for the objects in the trunk. He found boxing gloves and the robe his dad wore for that last fight. He pulled it out, gently running his fingers over the letters sewn on the back. Taking a deep breath, he blinked his eyes to relieve the sting. He wasn't going to cry. He was too old to cry even if he wasn't his adult-self right now.

Matt pulled out the robe all the way. He shut the footlocker then shoved the suit into the wardrobe and closed the door. The thought of exploring further didn't appeal to him anymore. He found out what he wanted, confirmed as much as he could that Peter must have told the truth. Instead, Matt picked up the boxer's robe and headed into the bedroom, quieter if only marginally from the living room. He pushed the blankets off the bed, not wanting the half foreign, half familiar scent of his adult self so close. He climbed into bed, pulled his dad's robe up over his head and fell asleep.

**TBC…**

Thanks for reading! Leave me a review. Tell me what you think, any suggestions, critiques, anything at all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Peter jolted to consciousness with the conviction that he was late for something, maybe a test. It took a moment of panicked gasping and jumping out of bed to remember it was, in fact, Saturday and that he didn't have school. Then he looked down and spotted the weird device that de-aged Daredevil and a whole new type of panic began.

"Oh, no," Peter muttered, pacing across the room and keeping his eyes on the device. "I gotta fix this. No one else is going to fix this…" Mr. Stark probably wasn't going to at least. The billionaire still hadn't answered his phone or returned any of the numerous messages Peter left with his voicemail.

Peter stopped all movement and took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm, think this through logically. Panicking would only make things worse, even though he thought right now was a good time to panic.

"Ok, first things first," Peter said, "I need to try and figure out what this thing does and hopefully how to reverse it so…science lab." He glanced at the clock, after lunch but still early in the afternoon.

An hour, a shower, change of clothes, and quick meal later, Peter crawled through the skylight in the school science lab. Part of him wondered if just going to see Mr. Stark in person, explaining the situation and asking to use the lab would be a better choice, but he still wasn't sure where he stood with the billionaire. They'd only recently started their…association, for lack of a better word. With all the voicemails Peter left in the last twenty four hours, he didn't want to risk becoming more of a nuisance than he was. Besides, Mr. Stark made enough donations to the school that the science lab had some pretty impressive equipment. It should be enough. If it wasn't, then he would crash Mr. Stark's lab…if the man was even in town.

Peter set his bag down on the work table and pulled out the device. He spread it out, laying the cables as flat as possible and gave it a good look-over. The thing had several long cables with hook-like clamps on each end. Last night, when Peter pulled the thing off of Double D those cables had a life and strength of their own, grabbing onto their victim with a death grip. Now, they lay lifeless and limp on the table. They connected at the center where the main part of the device seemed located. It had several buttons, some inscriptions written in a language Peter didn't recognize, and a blinking light, the only sign that the device had any power left. Peter found a few plug-ins on the side of the thing. One was a USB port and another that he'd never seen before, maybe something for a power cable.

Biting his lip, Peter debated between trying to plug the device into a computer or pushing the buttons. He'd barely managed to pry this thing off Daredevil when he'd had good leverage. If it turned on him here, when he was alone, Peter wasn't sure if he'd be able to get it off and they really couldn't afford him getting de-aged and lose his memories, or worse. The problem was he didn't know what, if anything, would trigger the device.

Pulling out one of the school laptops, there was no way Peter was going to risk his own, he plugged the device into the laptop. Since it hadn't been plugged in when it attacked Double D that meant plugging it in wouldn't trigger it, right? Still, he prepared himself to dodge as he connected it, glad his spider sense would give him an edge. Thankfully, nothing happened.

Plugging the device into the computer did let Peter look at the code programed into the thing, though. Not that it helped much. It seemed like only half the code was there and the rest was more of those crazy symbols etched into the outside of the thing. Peter managed to figure out a few of the basic commands, like trapping the victim by wrapping them up like an octopus, which he already knew. More than that remained a mystery.

After an hour of sifting through code and the other stuff, Peter was ready to gouge his eyes out. He took a bunch of screenshots for later, disconnected the thing from the computer, and then started a virus scan just to be sure. By this point he was ready to try anything, even the buttons running down one side of the device, inadvertently triggering attack mode be damned. That's what his spider sense was for anyway.

Peter still pulled a chair over to act as a shield. He reached out and tapped one of the buttons, ducking behind the chair as soon as the button clicked. Nothing. Not even a twinge from his spider sense much less anything from the device. Frowning more from frustration than anything, he moved down to the next button. Again, nothing. He was never going to figure anything out about the machine at this rate. Daredevil…_Matt_ was counting on him.

Gritting his teeth, Peter moved to the next button. There had to be a way to get a reaction from this thing and he was going to find it.

XxXxX

Stephen woke entirely too soon after his nightly escapades even if it was midafternoon. Knowing something still needed to be dealt with never lent to a long restful sleep in Stephen's observation. He was lucky he had plenty of practice working sleep deprived. After his second cup of coffee he felt alert enough to take another look at the notes from their mad inventor-sorcerer from the previous night.

The man, while completely insane, was also a certified genius and compulsive with documentation, Stephen reflected as he leafed through the pages of notebooks. The notebooks, because they found several, contained experiments, plans, blueprints, notes, and ideas for magical devices for a myriad of purposes. There were inventions for practical uses such as travel and construction to more militant purposes such as defensive and offensive weaponry. Stephen was correct in one of his initial assumptions about the devices. Collection and storage of magical energy played a prominent role in the notes. Whatever their end purpose, they all needed magical energy to run.

Stephen paused his skimming when he came across a diagram of the cabled device used most often in the fight. The four arm-like cables connected at a central hub with both electronic controls and magical ruins. From what Stephen could determine from the notes, the intention of the device was solely power collection. Once primed, the device wrapped around its victim and turned everything about that person from knowledge and experience to a person's physical body to raw magical energy. According to the notes on the practical experimentation, the victim went through a process of reversed growth before they vanished entirely, the whole of their existence converted to raw magical energy intended to power the other inventions. The concept was one part fascinating and nine parts unconscionable.

Glancing over to the inventory, Stephen noted there were more of these devices than any other invention present. It would make sense. Energy collection was a top priority especially if any of the other inventions were expected to work. The fact that there were firsthand accounts of practical experimentation and other machines clearly up and running using power collected by these devices implied Darrell Machin had already used these energy collection machines on at least several people.

Stephen searched through the notes, hoping to find more information. Side effects of the devices, ways to reverse it, even how many people fell victim to Machin's energy conversions would help with damage control. The observation notes on the experiments gave some help. Machin never bothered deliberately halting the process, but some of the early tests did leave the subject alive, often times without their memories. Other experiments recounted in Machin's notes ended less…humanely, for lack of a better term.

Of all the inventions Machin finished, the magical energy conversion device was clearly the most dangerous and Machin had more than enough of them if the fight was anything to judge. Stephen pulled out the inventory. He compared it to the list drawn up by the apprentices on what they found during the cleanup. Several devices and inventions were destroyed beyond recognition but they pieced together what they could and tried to come up with an accurate count. It seemed at least one of conversion devices were missing.

Stephen leaned back and sipped his now cold coffee. The unidentified owner of the billy club was the best explanation for the missing devices. The mystery person could have stolen the device. As far as energy sources were concerned it would be a valuable commodity, easily sold on the black market with or without the accompanying technology. If nothing else there were other rogue magic users in the world that would be interested.

There was also the possibility that the mysterious person had been caught by the device. The evidence of a fight would lend credibility to the possibility. Machin used the energy collection devices as his primary weapon against Stephen, so it stood to reason he would do the same against a previous attacker. However, that would imply their mystery person managed to escape while trapped by the device. From the notes, the devices caused crippling agony when activated. That left escape while trapped by one of the machines unlikely…but not impossible.

Either way, that missing device and whomever had it needed to be found. At worst, that person could be planning to replicate or sell the device. At best, that person was yet another victim of Darrell Machin's insanity.

Stephen checked the detection spell. It was similar to the protective spells used all over the earth to detect unauthorized and foreign magic. It didn't actively search for anything, simply reacted to the presence of the designated type of energy. It was the best thing to use and allow himself to sleep. Now he was awake, though, and Stephen considered using a more active way to search for the device. He was just considering whether he should look for the device or the owner of the billy club first when the alarm sounded. Someone triggered Machin's device.

"We found it!" Stephen called and the Cloak swooped in from the hall wrapping itself around his shoulders.

Stephen opened a portal to the location of the device. Before he had even stepped through he could hear cries of panic and found the source immediately after stepping into a high school science lab. A teenager laid pinned to the ground as he fended off the device with a chair. The machine reached and strained around the chair but the boy managed to keep it just far enough that it couldn't get a firm hold on him.

Stephen stepped up and moved his hands through the air. He pulled things from around the room, furniture and lab equipment and formed restraints around the device. He pulled it away from the boy and fixed it to the far side of the room where it twisted and strained against its cage like a living thing. Stephen then turned on the boy and restrained him. Letting the prime suspect for the mystery person escape from panic was not going to help the situation.

"What?!" the boy cried, less anger more panic.

Stephen check to make sure the device wasn't going to escape. Its movement slowed and eventually stopped, hanging limp in its cage pressed against the wall. A light blinked in the center of the device, meaning it had already managed to collect at least some energy from someone. Stephen turned back to the boy still pinned to his own side of the room staring at Stephen with wide eyes.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, "How did you do that? What's going on?" As the boy talked the panic faded replaced by determination. He strained against the magic holding him in place.

"Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you," Stephen said. "I'm here to help. My name's Dr. Strange. I'm going to fix what that thing did to you." He indicated the device hanging in its cage. "Now just hold still." Stephen moved his hands as he started drawing glowing lines of magic in the air. He needed to determine just how much the device had stolen from the boy in front of him before he could start to try and fix it.

"Nonono!" the boy cried, fighting harder against the magic holding him in place and surprisingly making headway. "Wait! It wasn't me! It didn't get me!"

Stephen paused, frowning. "It didn't get _you_?"

The boy paused his own struggles. "No, it got my friend!"

Stephen huffed a sigh, of course it wouldn't be this easy. He waved his hands, canceling the magic he'd started to draw, then again and cancelled the restraints holding the boy in place. "Maybe you'd better start at the beginning."

**TBC…**

A/N: This took longer to get up than expected, but hopefully it makes up for the wait.

I have no plan for this story. I don't know how long it will go, I don't know how many characters from the Marvel universe I'll bring into it, I don't know how I will end it. I am, however, open to requests, suggestions, and ideas. If you have requests not for this story specifically you can still send them to me. I'm trying to help with the lock-down boredom going around.

Stay healthy and sane everybody! Look after yourselves and each other and we'll all get through this. :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It's been a long time, I know. Sorry, I have no excuses.  
I don't own anything Marvel.

Also: Warning, there's swearing.

**Chapter 5**

Matt's eyes snapped open to the same inky blackness he knew so well. His heartrate spiked, a phantom of that instant of fear when he first woke up in the hospital after the accident. The scent of his father threw Matt off for a moment before he remembered the robe pulled over his head and the apartment belonging to his older self beyond.

Taking a deep breath, Matt focused. Footsteps, that's what woke him. There were footsteps moving across the roof. Stick could always tell the tiniest detail about people just from their gait and he used that information to great effect. Matt was not as good as Stick at reading gaits. He could tell the major things, injuries, type of shoe, weight of a person, though some large people had surprisingly light gaits. Matt closed his eyes and listened to the footsteps. If nothing else the practice helped distract him from his very strange situation of apparently being turned from and adult back into a child.

The steps were heavy but fluid. Matt frowned cocking his head. Not quite fluid, there was the slightest hitch that might be from a previous injury. The reverberation of the sound told him the person was wearing work boots or something similar so it could be someone doing maintenance on the roof.

Matt tracked the footsteps. He stilled when he realized they were heading toward his door. He threw off the robe from over his head and padded to the bedroom door. The footsteps reached the roof access door. The handle jiggled, metal on metal as the person picked the lock. Holding his breath and thoughts racing, Matt pressed himself against the wall as the door clicked and swung open.

The footsteps moved into the apartment, heavy and measured, with their heavy, measured heartbeat. A cloud of scents preceded the stranger, blown in with the rooftop breeze. The scents of the city renewed with the outside air. Matt tensed and prepared for a fight when he recognized the smell of gunpowder, explosives, and blood coming off the unknown person.

"Red?" the intruder said, barely louder than a normal tone of voice as he walked along the second story walk. "You dead?...There's a rumor going around you're dead so sound off…You better not be fucking with me, Red."

The last comment came out as a growl and Matt gulped, his heart skipping as a different sort of fear shot through him even as he shifted, ready to jump the intruder. The intruder paused on the stairs and there was the distinct sound of a knife sliding out of a holster. Matt must have made a sound loud enough for the intruder to hear.

The footsteps came down the steps softer and lighter than they were moments ago. Matt waited. Just as the man set a foot on the first floor, Matt pounced. He threw himself around the doorway and slammed into the man's legs knocking them both to the floor. The man swung with his knife only to pull back an instant later. Matt used to opening to land a hit on several vital spots. The punches only gained him a few grunts of pain.

"What the fuck?" the stranger said as a large, rough hand grabbed Matt's shirt and pulled him away.

Matt flailed a moment, thrown off by the lack of a direct attack. Stick always fought Matt almost like an equal with blows intended to hurt if Matt didn't counter or move quick enough. The stranger pushed to his feet and held Matt out at arm's length. Matt swung a punch only to find what he already guessed, the man's arm length was longer than Matt's range. Instead, Matt grabbed the arm holding him out and kicked his legs up. He wrapped himself around the arm and bit hard.

"Fuck!" the intruder muttered and adjust his tactics from holding Matt out at arm's length to pulling Matt close and restraining his limbs.

Mat twisted, very nearly escaping the maneuver but the man was stronger and had combat training, too. _Skill and training will bridge the difference between size and strength_, Matt thought of Stick's words as the man got behind him and wrapped Matt in a headlock, _but if the skill and training is the same, size and strength very much matters. Shit._

"Easy, easy! I'm not going to hurt you," The man said and Matt paused a moment to get his wits back, muscles tense and trembling with the strain. The man twisted around and pulled Matt's head back to get a look at him. "What the fuck?" the man asked again. He was using just enough force to prevent Matt from escaping the hold, but not enough to actually choke him out.

A moment passed as Matt strained and struggled to no effect. After another moment, Matt stopped, panting from the effort and trying to think of a way out of the hold. Another moment passed without Matt moving. Matt could feel the man twist to get a better look at Matt's face.

"You done?" the man asked in the exactly same unimpressed tone Matt's dad used when Matt was being difficult. Hearing it sent a pang of loss through Matt's core and he made one last attempt to twist out of the hold. The man just sighed and held on, grip firm and uncomfortable but not painful unlike Stick's suffocating choke holds.

Matt fell still a second time, huffing in defeat.

The man shifted to look at him again. "Alright, I'm going to let go. Try anything and we'll do this all over again with the same result."

The arms and legs holding Matt in place loosened. The moment a big enough opening presented itself, Matt twisted out of the hold and scrambled to put distance between him and the man. "Who are you?" he snarled falling into a defensive stance.

A beat of silence followed. The man shifted and cursed under his breath again before murmuring a faint, "Can't be…"

Matt scowled, shifted his feet by inches. He was at a disadvantage. This person came here looking for someone, presumably Matt's older self.

"Red?" the man asked

"Who are you?!" Matt asked again, twitching and tense, ready to lunge again if needed. He'd go low and get behind the guy, use the stranger's size against him.

"Ho-ly shit," the man said, sitting back on the floor. "It is you… I don't know how, but unless you have some kid I don't know about who's also blind and a fuckin' ninja then I don't know any other way to explain it…shit."

Matt kept his hands up. He resisted the temptation to ask the man's name a third time. This guy knew his older self and it…didn't seem like they were enemies. It still didn't mean Matt could trust the guy though. He scowled and opened his mouth to demand answers but paused. It took a moment to recognize the sound but when he did, it did not improve Matt's opinion of the guy.

Matt scowled at the quiet laughter and the stranger only had a more difficult time smothering the chuckles trying to escape him. He rocked back and scrubbed a hand over his head. "That's that same look! Shit! I don't know what you did or who you pissed off but you managed to shrink yourself. How do you managed to get in these fucked up situations?"

Matt glared. He didn't remember any situations remotely like this one. The training lessons with Stick came the closest, but not really this…strange. Presumably, this guy was talking about things that happened to adult-Matt. Unfortunately for him, Matt didn't remember those and he didn't remember this guy. No memories, no reason to trust him, and especially no reason to stand here and let some random stranger who broke into his apartment laugh at him. He clenched his fist drew back half a step. He couldn't take the guy in a fight. The stranger was too skilled and too strong. So if Matt couldn't win in a fight his best bet was to escape. The front door was out. It was still locked and the stranger sat between Matt and it. The roof access, though should be fine and Matt was already familiar with it.

The stranger huffed another laugh, "Your fucking face." He shook his head, rolling his head up to the ceiling and probably taking his eyes off of Matt and Matt took his opportunity.

Matt dodged to the side and shot for the stairs. His bare feet thudded hollow against the wood stairs and he drove himself up to the second floor. He was halfway up before the man muttered "oh shit," and followed.

The stranger almost caught him but Matt cut the corner on the stairs and vaulted over to the landing, running a few steps along the banister. The man's heart leapt a moment at the stunt, but he didn't slow down. Matt wrenched open the rooftop door and narrowly pulled it closed as the stranger reached it. It bounced off the frame and the man was through, closing in on Matt with each step. Matt's bare feet did not help the situation. It might have been helpful inside on the wood floors, but out here on the gravel it was painful and slowed him down.

Matt veered, dodging out of the man's reach again and head straight for the roof edge. He'd lose the man after he jumped off the roof. Landing was a problem, but Stick trained him for these types of situations. Matt would figure it out as he went. He dodged to the right as the man made another grab for him. The man cursed under his breath as he changed course to make another grab.

Heaving himself up onto the ledge, Matt reached out his senses as he dropped from the roof. There was a fire escape-

Matt's fall lurched to a stop and he slammed into the side of the building as a hand latched onto the back of his shirt.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" the man growled and yanked Matt back up on the roof.

Matt spun, tried to land a punch but the man didn't give him a chance. He wrapped his arms around Matt, pinning Matt's own arms to his sides, and lifted Matt in the air. Matt kicked and curse. He tried to head butt and bite, but it wasn't enough to break free. The man carried Matt back to the roof access door and into the apartment.

"No sense of self-preservation," the man muttered and locked the door behind him. As soon as the door was locked he let go of Matt, hands held up.

Matt skittered back, putting distance between himself and the stranger. The roof access door was block, but now the front door was open if he could just get there in time. His intention must have shown on his face because the man huffed.

"Don't even think about it," he said as Matt turned and vaulted himself over the railing to the floor. The man cursed.

Matt rolled with the impact just like Stick taught him. It took another second to reorient himself to the room and find the front door again. He reached it and was searching for the lock when the man caught up to him, wrapping arms around Matt and carrying him away from the door.

"You are just as much a pain in the ass as a kid," the man said, exasperated but with an unmistakable edge of humor in his tone. "Alright, new plan, you're getting tied up till you quit with the escape attempts. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Yeah?" Matt spat, wriggling to get free as the man searched for something to tie him up with, "You broke in here! You haven't even told me you name! I have no reason to trust you!"

"Ok, fair," the man paused his search. "I tell you my name, you quit with the escape attempts for a while and tell me what happened, alright?"

"I'm not getting much out of this deal," Matt griped.

"You're getting not tied up is what you're getting," the man said, still holding Matt with an iron grip.

It was something Stick would say and the echo of familiarity actually made Matt feel a little better. "Fine."

The man put Matt down next to the couch and took a step back, sitting down in the chair. "My name's Frank."

"Mine's Matt," Matt said. Yeah this guy seemed to know his older self, but he'd also been looking for someone called 'Red' so maybe that wasn't adult-Matt.

Matt could hear the faintest trace of a huffed laugh in Frank's breathing and in his steady heart "You gonna tell me what happened now?" Frank asked.

Matt shrugged. "Dunno," he said. There was a long moment of silence. Frank cocked his head and that one gesture expressed all of the disbelief necessary. "Really," Matt insisted. "I woke up in an alleyway and in pain and there was this other kid. He said I was actually an adult but we were fighting this crazy guy and he trapped me in this thing that turned me into a kid."

"Who was the other kid?" Frank asked, no disbelief in his tone. Maybe Matt's current existence was proof enough that something as crazy as that could happen.

"Just another kid," Matt shrugged again. He might have agreed to tell Frank what happened, but he wasn't a fink. "He helped me get back here but he had to go home before his aunt got mad."

"Just another kid, huh? And he was helping you fight a guy?" Frank's frown was very evident in his voice. "Your story telling is shit. You need to give more details."

Matt hesitated, remembering what Peter said about secret identities. "Well, he had…talents. The main thing is he helped me get back here and took the restraint thing. Said he was going to try and figure it out so we could undo whatever happened to me."

Frank's head tilted forward and his voice rose in pitch. "So he _left_ you here?"

"Well it's my place," Matt defended, "It has my dad's stuff in it! And the mail's addressed to me."

"How old was this kid?" Frank asked.

Matt shrugged again. "A little older than me, I think."

"Teaming up with kids now, Red?" Frank muttered, but it wasn't directed to Matt. Frank's head shifted and Matt got the feeling the other man was looking at him, assessing him. "How old are _you_?"

"Almost thirteen," Matt said. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared, daring Frank to make something of it.

"Shit, not even thirteen and you're already doing the ninja crap," Frank muttered and scrubbed his head with a hand. "Jumping off of roofs and shit…" He huffed a sigh. "When was the last time you ate?"

Matt shrugged, thoroughly done with the conversation and being grilled. If this guy wasn't a threat then Matt was going to crawl back under his dad's robe and fall asleep again.

Muttering under his breath, Frank pushed up from the chair. He stepped around to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. More muttering that Matt deliberately did not listen to as Frank went through the other cabinets and shelves.

"Un-fuckin believable," Frank muttered louder, huffing another sigh. "Get some shoes on. We're going out to eat."

"What?" Matt frowned, screwing up his face and turning toward Frank.

"Your ears broken?" Frank asked. He was by the wall, pushing shoes around. "You're adult half is doing a crap job at taking care of himself as always, so we're going out to eat. Here, put these shoes on." A pair of shoes clattered to the floor in front of the couch.

Matt opened his mouth to protest. The shoes would definitely be too big, like the clothes he wore. It would draw attention which was something Matt hated doing, especially since the accident, and something Stick always recommended against unless it was to their advantage. Any protest died when his stomach gave a loud rumble and a pang of hunger reminded him how unfulfilling that cold rice was. He reached down, found the shoes, and tugged them on his feet. They were boats on him, more like his father's shoes than his own, but Matt laced the sneakers as tight as he could and clomped his way to the canes leaning near the door.

"Stand in the door," Frank muttered as he held the front door open for Matt and fiddled with a set of keys.

"I get to choose the place," Matt tried to sound more authoritative than hopeful, but wasn't sure he succeeded.

"Sure, kid," Frank said, closing and locking the door behind them. His tone was gruff, but he slowed his pace so Matt could keep up. "Maybe we'll see about getting you some shoes that actually fit, too."

**TBC…**

**Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! No clue when the next chapter will come. I'll try to make it sooner rather than later.**


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